Film: Eccentricities Of A Blonde-haired Girl Year of production: 2009 UK Release date: 13th June 2011 Distributor: New Wave Certificate: U Running time: 64 mins Director: Manoel de Oliveira Starring: Ricardo Trepa, Catarina Wallenstein, Diogo Doria, Julia Buisel, Leonor Silveira Genre: Drama/Romance Format: DVD Country of Production: Portugal/Spain/France Language: Portuguese
Review by: Rob Markham
What would happen if you were to combine a story by one of Portugal’s greatest realist writers, Ęca de Queiroz, with the directing talents of Manoel de Oliveira, one of Portugal’s most celebrated filmmakers, and at 102 years of age, supposedly the oldest active director in the world? In answer to that question is Eccentricities Of A Blonde-haired Girl, an almost short story-like film that reminds us of the importance of the director and technique in storytelling. On a train from Lisbon to the Algarve, Macário strikes up a conversation with a stranger, desperate to be rid of the story that plagues him.
He describes the moment he fell in love with a stranger while looking out of his office window. Across the street, he sees a beautiful girl with a Chinese fan. The two meet each other’s gaze and Macário falls hopelessly in love with her.
When his uncle refuses to give permission for him to marry the girl, Luísa, Macário embarks on a journey to earn enough money to marry the girl, and his life is thrown into turmoil. He faces unemployment, poverty and humiliation to be with the woman he loves. But is the woman he loves all she appears to be?
Eccentricities Of A Blonde-haired Girl is strange in the fact that nothing really happens. The drama unfolds so slowly and with little ceremony - just as you would expect from an everyman relating a story to a stranger - that it’s difficult to tell whether something monumental has happened to the characters. With a running time of little over an hour, this is hardly noticeable, and throughout we are able to watch a master director utilising the camera to create a slow but emotive film.
De Oliveira’s shots linger on a scene before the characters enter and remain static when they have left, showing the world does not revolve around these two ‘lovers’, and that they are merely characters in a story. His camera barely moves and the static shots create an awkward feel that perfectly mirrors the awkwardness felt by Macário. From the painfully repetitive opening shot of a ticket inspector on a train to the repeated shots of Lisbon in various states of weather and time of day, de Oliveira is unafraid to use the camera to remind us that we are watching characters in real situations, but that they are just characters - and this is just a film.
This has its draw backs. As a piece of cinema, it is not the most exciting thing you are likely to watch, and it will not play with the senses to create atmosphere or tension. Instead, it unfolds leisurely, and rather than building to a climax, the ending just happens. Perhaps this is apt, as it is not a story filled with fireworks and dangerous romance. It is simply a story told reflectively by someone who comes across as a bit of a loser, all things considered.
In terms of character, Macário never really convinces as a romantic; however, this does feel intentional. In actual fact, he comes off as rather creepy, at times. His staring at Luisa through the window, hiding behind a document, or descending the stairs to simply watch her in the shop for which he is an accountant, does not remind us of the typical moves of a Lothario. Rightly so, as Macário is not a romantic hero, he is weak and desperate, unafraid to cry and appear slightly pathetic, and with a lost expression for nearly the entire film.
Luísa, on the other hand, with her fan and her smile, is almost an archetypal femme fatale. She would not be out of place in a film noir, dragging some poor PI into a shady world of manipulation and confidence tricks, such are the unexplored depths of her character. She is the vessel into which Macário pours all his hopes and dreams of the ideal woman, without ever bothering to get to know her. It is one of the least romantic set-ups you’re likely to see. And that’s the point.
The performances all seem highly stylised and work well with the style of filmmaking. Ricardo Trêpa as Macário is suitably innocent and weak for the most part, learning too late, and with some justified anger, that you cannot rush into love blindly. Catarina Wallenstein is equally good as Luisa, her teasing expression and her look of innocence in the face of the facts is convincing and ambiguous. She leaves us feeling a little like Macário: angry, confused, but still with affection.
The short running time means the leisurely pace can be forgiven, and there will be little chance of boredom, but the character’s actions, limited locations, and a very noticeable lack of editing do not make for the most interesting visual experience. But what do you expect from a director at 102 years of age? Aesthetic dynamism is not the goal here. What we’re left with is a short story (it is an adaptation of one after all) that transports us into a theatrical world where love is instantaneous and never quite what it seems. The result is not outstanding, but it will leave you feeling like you’ve witnessed a true filmmaker doing what he does best.
It’s refreshing to see something that doesn’t strive for themes and motifs beyond its reach and instead focuses on simply telling a story. There is little to sink one’s teeth into, but that isn’t the point of the film. With some superbly emotive visual techniques, it is a nice film to watch, but it won’t blow your hair back, or knock your socks off, or do anything other than charm you. RM
Film: Le Quattro Volte Year of production: 2010 UK Release date: 30th May 2011 Distributor: New Wave Certificate: U Running time: 88 mins Director: Michelangelo Frammartino Starring: Giuseppe Fuda, Bruno Timpano, Nazareno Timpano Genre: Drama Format: Cinema Country of Production: Italy/Germany/Switzerland Language: Italian
Review by: Natalie Meziani
Le Quattro Volte is almost certainly not what you will expect to see. It is a film that manages to bypass even the most defiant of art house cinema; it takes all the rules and folds them into a happily drifting paper aeroplane. Director Michelangelo Frammartino has set his second full-length feature in the south Italian region of Calabria, where he uses goats, a tree, some charcoal and an old man to explore Pythagoras’ theory of transmigration – the idea that existence of the soul is dispersed amongst human, animal, vegetable and mineral. There is an absence of dialogue and music and human interaction, therefore its entire meaning depends upon the amount of work the viewer is willing to put in themselves. Le Quattro Volte begins with a very brief glimpse into the life of an old goat herder, afflicted with a chesty cough, which he attempts to combat daily by taking a shot of water mixed with dusty scrapings from the local church floor. Superstition it may be, but one missed “medication” ends up as a fatal mistake. His imminent death leads to the second chapter in Pythagoras’ idea of a four-fold soul, as we traverse towards the animal stage: meet the chaotic goats. While the film’s single human character is on the verge of making a plodding exit, the herd of goats are left without control and thus run riot across the town.
There are goats everywhere: they are in the deceased herder’s house and they are on his kitchen table. After his body is carried away in a coffin, the screen turns black and re-opens upon the unrefined birth of a goat. The birth of said goat provides us with our next protagonist, as we follow the kid in its early stages of life, until one day it becomes separated from the herd. The goat comes across a tree, which is cut down and used in the town’s festivities the following year. Having finished their celebration, the tree is sold to coalmen who burn the wood into charcoal, metaphorically releasing the herder’s soul back to where it began…
The cinematography’s resemblance to real life gives the film a documentary-like feel, with no overt enhancement of colour and a consistent use of natural lighting. There is a relentless sound of bells as the goats traverse around the town, but there is otherwise very little background noise. There is most certainly no music or speech. But although this may initially sound dreary and far too pretentious, Le Quattro Volte has a certain indistinct charm in its diversity.
With no dialogue, the story is facilitated through the use of expression and scene composition. While the film’s content is essentially ominous and slow-paced, there is also something comical about watching the oblivious existence of the goats. The brilliant thing about Le Quattro Volte is its ability to run for 88 minutes without the audience craving dialogue. The metaphorical richness and the peaceful scenarios allow it to progress painlessly, which also permits the viewer to interpret the film entirely as they wish due to a lack of verbal direction.
The shepherd is portrayed as a quirky and traditional fellow: more pans than one man should require are hung on his kitchen wall; his stark bedroom consists primarily of a shabby bed and some chairs; and he spends a lot of time contemplating. Giuseppe Fuda plays the role of this slow-paced old man, sporting a constant vacant stare and moving with the deliberation of a hopeless soul. His behaviour appears entirely natural, leading you to forget that he is in fact an actor.
Vast colourless buildings complete what appears to be a relatively motionless town, with frequent landscape shots of an area where nature is a ruling force of calmness. There are regular extreme long shots which focus on still constructions, and so any human or animal activity is highlighted. The stillness of the camera also means that close-up shots hold a subtle poignancy - there is an early scene transition which fixates purely on falling dust particles, which Frammartino manages to pull off due to its sheer hypnotic simplicity.
Le Quattro Volte calmly captures the viewer in a bated gasp, with each breath slowly held back by the unknown course of the next scene. There are no sudden actions or miraculous surprises, but this in turn allows the richness of life to shine through. It gives the viewer a chance to run wild with their own existential thoughts, and escapes the fabricated fantasy world of predictable cinema.
For those unwilling to dedicate their attention to something so abstract and unconventional, Le Quattro Volte should be avoided at all costs. It requires 88 minutes of uninterrupted attention, but, as Frammartino whispers hopeful words into your subconscious, he allows all the doubts of man to dissolve into a wisp of charcoal smoke, giving the soul an immortality which most other films can only dream of. NM
Film: How I Ended This Summer Release date: 22nd April 2011 Running time: 124 mins Director: Aleksei Popogrebsky Starring: Grigoriy Dobrygin, Sergei Puskepalis, Igor Chernevich, Ilya Sobolev, Artyom Tsukanov Genre: Drama/Thriller Studio: New Wave Format: Cinema Country: Russia
Russian director Alexei Popogrebski’s psychological thriller was a surprise winner at the prestigious 2010 London Film Festival, no mean feat when one considers the competition - not only was the Oscar-winning King’s Speech in contention, but also Black Swan and 127 Hours. Despite working its charms at the festival, How I Ended This Summer has divided critics worldwide.
On the Eastern tip of Russia, just a short distance from Alaska, lies Chukotka, one of the most isolated landscapes on Earth, and home to a Russian meteorological station. Manning this station are just two occupants: Sergei, a veteran who has spent many a year in such isolation, thus developing a cold and unapproachable manner, and his young understudy Pavel, a work experience student. Pavel is more preoccupied with listening to heavy rock music and writing his essay, ‘How I Ended This Summer’, than with the task at hand, leading to one or two early face-offs with Sergei, who is exasperated by Pavel’s carelessness and clumsiness.
What begins as artsy film littered with landscape shots but bereft of dialogue soon becomes a more eerie affair when Sergei disappears for a couple of days to fish for trout, leaving Pavel in charge at the base station, a two-way radio his only link to the outside world. When Pavel receives a message that Sergei’s wife and son have been killed in an accident, this triggers a cataclysmic chain of events, as Pavel attempts to figure out a way to break the tragic news to Sergei. With the chilling backdrop of the Arctic elements, paranoia becomes border-line insanity…
Popogrebski leaves no stone unturned in an attempt to create a haunting atmosphere, using the fabled crepuscular half light, when the contrast between dark and light is at its most prominent. The twilight effect of the creeping shadows is something he falls back on time and again, yet it never feels overused. Perhaps the unfamiliarity of the scenery and indeed the diverse wildlife fuel our fascination with the unknown, despite the hint of agoraphobia throughout. In the deathly silence of the snow, the swirling howl of the wind and even in the lumbering menace of a polar bear, Popogrebski is able to conjure unease within the audience. His only questionable inclusion is his use of first-person computer game graphic, which appears misplaced in the extreme.
Samples of heavy rock music in amongst the extensive shots of glorious landscape further accentuate the contrast between the quiet desolation and the overpowering harshness of the elements in the early parts of the film, in which dialogue is limited. Soon enough, however, we are made aware that there is already a growing tension between Sergei and Pavel, even before news of the tragedy reaches them. When the protagonists do converse, there is resentment in their voices, and the bond which one might expect between two men who spend every waking moment in each other’s company does not exist.
Both actors deserve much credit for their performances; Sergei Puskepalis coming across as completely unapproachable with his quiet and brooding manner, and Grigoriy Dobrygin who bubbles with muted menace before it gives way to outrageous insanity in the climactic scenes. They bring a dense reality to proceedings, sharing an intriguing dynamic, whereby we urge them to discover common ground, or even just share a joke.
Rhythmically, the film is relatively slow-paced, but the tension of the narrative and the potential for discovery keeps the audience guessing. Pavel repeatedly stumbles in his attempts to break the news to Sergei, as events become a little far-fetched. It could be argued that the film takes a turn for the worse when Pavel becomes convinced that Sergei is trying to kill him, which triggers an extensive chase scene that feels more like an elongated game of hide and seek. Pavel sits in the shadows for what must be more than a week, as he contends with starvation and mounting paranoia.
The questionable conclusion that follows will be subject to debate for years to come, and perhaps Popogrebski has actually demonstrated restraint by preventing How I Ended This Summer from descending into a farce of utter carnage. However, one cannot help wondering whether Popogrebski really has it in him to tell such a twisted story, or whether it was all just an excuse to shoot nature at its most rugged and beautiful.
Popogrebski’s dark Arctic tale has the raw materials in place for an epic piece of work, which may yet define his career. His understated and confused conclusion may not be to everyone’s taste, but he deserves credit for the ominous atmosphere portrayed throughout, and the stylistics will live long in the memory. MC
Film: Two In The Wave Release date: 11th April 2011 Certificate: 12 Running time: 91 mins Director: Emmanuel Laurent Starring: Francois Truffaut, Jean-Luc Godard Genre: Documentary Studio: New Wave Format: DVD Country: France
The pioneering figures of French New Wave cinema, Jean-Luc Godard and Francois Truffaut are nothing short of legends in the world of film. Their idealistic, youthful cinema inspired generations of filmmakers, both in Europe and Hollywood. Now, director Emmanuel Laurent, once the editor of Cahiers du Cinema, brings together film archives and documents to reveal the turbulent relationship between the two men.
Grainy archive footage shows Truffaut’s seminal film, The 400 Blows, triumphing at the Cannes Film Festival. A present-day, nameless girl studies newspaper cuttings. Narrator Antoine de Baecque (also the writer) introduces, in a roundabout way, New Wave cinema and its protagonists, Truffaut and Godard. Told almost exclusively through the use of archive footage, both of the men and of their films, the documentary charts their family backgrounds, their work as critics for the Cahiers du Cinema and the relationship forged between them.
Interview clips reveal a typically French, philosophical approach to filmmaking – Godard explains how cinema blurs the lines between art and reality – and excerpts from their films, particularly The 400 Blows and Godard’s Breathless, show how their philosophy developed in their work. At this point, the two were great friends and worked closely together, often with the young actor Jean-Pierre Leaud as their muse, but de Baecque hints at the differences between them. While Godard sees cinema in a social sense, reconciling it with reality and all that goes with it, Truffaut is intent on producing a poetic narrative, a great piece of cinema, a work of art. More footage then introduces the riots which paralysed France in May 1968 and which reached to the heart of cinema, and reveals the events which led to that dramatic rupture in the New Wave movement...
The documentary aims to show the personal story behind one of the most interesting and exciting periods of French cinema. It is clear that Laurent and de Baecque (a film historian) know their subject intimately and have done their research. The sheer wealth of archive footage and the way it is woven together demonstrates this. However, the story is told so dispassionately that the viewer never feels like they get any real insight into Truffaut and Godard.
One of the problems is that the New Wave has been so well-documented, with so many books and films about it, that in order to add anything new to the subject, a documentary would have to be innovative and extraordinary. This is neither. The delivery is in a very straightforward, history-channel manner and it continues in that vein for the entire ninety minutes. This style might work in some contexts, but here, given the fact that it is discussing two non-conformist, pioneering, creative individuals, it is unintentionally ironic.
The inescapable fact is that this is a French film about French film, so has a slightly desperate air of nostalgia about it, rather than looking to be creative. Not all retrospectives feel like this, but here, although the story is about Truffaut and Godard, there is a real sense that it is looking wistfully back at the glory days of French cinema. To understand Godard’s philosophy or Truffaut’s narrative, how they worked together and what could have caused them to fall out, it would be far more powerful to watch one of their films. Their own work gives a far greater insight into them than this collection of archive footage does.
One completely baffling element of the film is the mute girl that the film cuts to every so often, with an arty close-up of her face, then of her hands turning over pages of newspaper cuttings about Truffaut and Godard. She then goes for a wander around Paris, pausing outside a cinema we later see in the archive footage. At first, her presence in the film looks like it’s taking us in a different direction, but actually she has no real purpose at all. Perhaps she is supposed to connect the viewer with the archives, therefore making them more immediate, as if her interest in the story will rub off on us. In fact, these scenes merely provoke puzzlement as to their inclusion, leaving the viewer more removed than ever.
The documentary gets some things right. The interview clips, particularly of Godard, are interesting and hook the viewer in momentarily. Equally, for viewers looking for an introduction to New Wave Cinema, the social background and its key figures, there is a lot of clearly presented, accurate information here. It just does not go that step further and add anything new or any perceptive ideas, and it lacks the lustre to make it really incisive and enjoyable. There are books which bring this movement and its personalities to life with more passion and zeal. Films about film are difficult to pull off and sadly this one does not manage it particularly well.
New Wave aficionados and die-hard fans of Truffaut and Godard will find delight in the wealth of archive footage, but as a film and a contribution to French cinema, Two In The Wave leaves a lot to be desired. KS
Two In The Wave is the story of a friendship and of a break-up. Jean-Luc Godard was born in 1930; Francois Truffaut two years later. Love of movies brings them together. They write in the same magazines, Cahiers du Cinema and Arts.
When the younger of the two becomes a filmmaker with Les 400 coups (The 400 Blows), which triumphs in Cannes in 1959, he helps his older friend shift to directing, offering him a screenplay which already has a title, A bout de souffle (Breathless). Through the 1960s, the two loyally support each other.
History and politics separate them in 1968, and afterwards - when Godard plunges into radical politics but Truffaut continues his career as before. Between the two of them, the actor Jean-Pierre Léaud is torn like a child caught between two separated and warring parents. Their friendship and their break-up embody the story of French cinema.
Exploring the letters, personal archives and films of the two New Wave directors, Two In The Wave takes us back to a prodigious decade that transformed the world of cinema.
Film: Two In The Wave Release date: 11th April 2011 Certificate: TBC Running time: 91 mins Director: Emmanuel Laurent Starring: Francois Truffaut, Jean-Luc Godard Genre: Documentary Studio: New Wave Format: DVD Country: France
Film: Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives Release date: 28th March 2011 Certificate: 12 Running time: 113 mins Director: Apichatpong Weerasethakul Starring: Thanapat Saisaymar, Jenjira Pongpas, Sakda Kaewbuadee, Natthakarn Aphaiwonk, Geerasak Kulhong Genre: Comedy/Drama/Fantasy Studio: New Wave Format: DVD & Blu-ray Country: Thailand/UK/France/Germany/Spain
In 1983, Phra Sripariyattiweti, the abbot of a Buddhist monastery in Thailand, published a book telling the story of a man called Boonmee who had told him he could clearly remember his own past lives while meditating, “playing behind his closed eyes like a movie.” By the time Thai director Apichatpong Weerasethakul had heard the story, Boonmee had died, so rather than attempt a straightforward biopic, he decided to use the idea and structure to make a far more personal film, reminiscent of the Thai horror films of his youth. Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives was released in early 2010 to critical acclaim, winning the Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival, and boosting the profile of its director to worldwide recognition.
Set in a remote village in Thailand, the film tells the story of an elderly man called Boonmee who lives with his wife, son, and carer – an illegal immigrant from over the border in Laos. Boonmee is suffering from acute kidney failure, and is struggling through the last days of his life.
As he comes closer to death, Boonmee is approached by visions of ghosts from his life, including his long dead first wife, and his missing son who returns in the form of a half-monkey with glowing red eyes. Through these spirits he experiences visions of his past and future lives, and ponders on possible reasons for his illness…
From the outset it is clear we are in for something very different from Weerasethakul. Shots linger eternally on the banal, asking us to examine and re-examine the seemingly mundane of everyday life until, before our eyes, it actually becomes interesting. He purposefully does not focus on the action, does not edit for convenience, and allows his camera to drift around and away from (and then back to) the focus of the story. Whoever said that drama is life with the boring bits taken out forgot to tell Weerasethakul.
Like many other examples of Asian cinema (notably the Studio Gibli animations), in Uncle Boonmee, we are asked to accept along with the characters the existence of ghosts and spirits as a completely normal, conventional part of everyday life - and death. It is with little more than mild alarm that the characters react when Boonmee’s long dead ex-wife materialises at the dinner table, followed by his missing son who has transformed into a bi-pedal, red-eyed monkey. It’s a peculiar concept to adjust to, one which would maybe benefit from repeat viewings, but undoubtedly this technique helps immerse us in the director’s world, far more than an Alice Through The Looking Glass conceit ever would.
The film frequently drifts from scene to often unrelated scene with no real purpose or flow, yet somehow these changes of tone are never jarring, instead allowing Uncle Boonmee to play out like a long, lazy dream. A significant example is where, for apparently no reason in the middle of the film, the story changes unannounced to the short story of a disfigured princess who has a conversation – and much, much more – with a talking catfish. Unexplained, the film then returns to the story of Boonmee, exactly where we left off. It feels like rather than being told a story, we are taking a trip through the director’s mind, and that he has put his thoughts directly on screen exactly as it came to him.
Even with repeat viewings, huge chunks of Uncle Boonmee are forever going to remain unexplained, other than perhaps only in the director’s mind. It is this wanton disregard for traditional narrative and stubborn refusal to explain itself that will be the greatest barrier to most audiences. This is not something however that concerns Weerasethakul. On the contrary, he welcomes the thought of his film’s potential unpopularity, saying: “I always say a film should have a personality. And like a person, if he or she is very popular, I would feel very suspicious.” In a world of audience-pleasing self-promoters, it is a refreshing attitude.
It seems that while narrative is nothing to Weerasethakul, tone is everything, and through some truly striking imagery, he captures a beautiful otherworldly quality to Thailand that we haven’t encountered before. The mountains and forests hang with a dark, ominous foreboding that make the line between life and death, and between the real and the spirit world thinly defined. Indeed, this creepy, darkly lit ambience makes Uncle Boonmee play out at times like a horror film, and the image of many sets of glowing red eyes staring out from a silhouetted forest will keep many awake at night.
The acting is largely subdued and wooden, but this cannot really be blamed on the actors, as Weerasethakul has commented that this was an intentional homage to an acting style of the past - from low-budget Thai horror films - where actors were whispered their lines from off camera and would then woodenly repeat them aloud. It’s another indication that he is really not interested in the conventional techniques of storytelling, but rather has his own very particular ideas about what does and does not make a good film.
A bold, dream-like piece; confusing, befuddling, but often stunningly beautiful. It definitely won’t be for everyone, many will find it confusing and impenetrable, but Uncle Boonmee could well mark an eye-opening new direction for film, with Weerasethakul’s direction treading a unique new path for other filmmakers to follow. LOZ
Apichatpong Weerasethakul directs this Thai fantasy.
The film portrays the final days in the life of Boonmee (Thanapat Saisaymar), a middle-aged man with failing kidneys who recalls his various past lives from his deathbed.
Along with a nurse Jaai (Samud Kugasang), his sister-in-law Jen (Jenjira Pongpas) and his young cousin Tong (Sakda Kaewbuadee), Boonmee has come to a remote forest cabin to end his days, as he believes it to be the place where his former existences took place.
As he revisits his many reincarnations and is reunited with the ghosts of his dead wife and lost son, Boonmee becomes immersed in memories and undergoes intense personal transformation as he surrenders to the inevitability of death.
The film won the Palme d'Or at the 2010 Cannes Film Festival.
Film: Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives Release date: 28th March 2011 Certificate: 12 Running time: 113 mins Director: Apichatpong Weerasethakul Starring: Thanapat Saisaymar, Jenjira Pongpas, Sakda Kaewbuadee, Natthakarn Aphaiwonk, Geerasak Kulhong Genre: Comedy/Drama/Fantasy Studio: New Wave Format: DVD & Blu-ray Country: Thailand/UK/France/Germany/Spain
Film: Alamar Release date: 28th February 2011 Certificate: U Running time: 73 mins Director: Pedro González‐Rubio Starring: Jorge Machado, Roberta Palombini, Natan Machado Palombini, Néstor Marín Genre: Documentary/Drama/Family Studio: New Wave Format: DVD Country: Mexico
The young Mexican director Pedro González-Rubio made his film debut in 2005 with Toro Negro, and recently picked up the top prize at the 2010 Rotterdam Film Festival with his second feature Alamar. A strange mix of fact and subtle direction, Alamar tells a simple story of intimate family relationships in a beautiful exotic location. A five minute still picture montage opens Alamar, with snapshots and a voiceover telling the story of an intense but ultimately short-lived romance between an Italian woman, Roberta, and Jorge, a Mexican fisherman. Their fling produced a son, Natan, whom both parents adore.
Natan’s mother has made the decision to leave Mexico and move to Rome, taking Natan with her. Alamar follows Natan as he spends one last week with his father on the coral reef of Banco Chinchorro in the Caribbean off the Mexican coast, living the traditional life of a fisherman in a wooden hut raised above the ocean on stilts. A million miles from the city, the days are about a simple, idyllic routine of fishing, cooking and eating…
González-Rubio’s camerawork is deceptively simple. Rather than trying to enhance the environment with artifice, he frames his shots and lingers on them, allowing the landscape to speak for itself. It is an approach which speaks volumes about the confidence with which he has approached his subject. Many filmmakers would not have the courage to attempt such a rejection of technique, but González-Rubio’s audacity pays off, because in Alamar it works beautifully. By relying so heavily on his subject, we are pulled slowly and completely into the world these characters inhabit, and before long, it almost seems impossible that anything could exist outside of the ocean, the beach and the stilted huts. By simply documenting, González-Rubio allows his subject to sing.
In one charming sequence, an African egret bird appears at the hut from over the sea looking for food. Over the course of a few scenes, the bird – which they name ‘Blanquita’ - grows gradually more confident, eventually eating bugs out of their hands, and even clambering up on Natan’s arm to be fed. We see Jorge’s relationship with Natan mirror the bond he shares with his own father, as Jorge’s father joins them. As Jorge teaches his son to snorkel, spear fish and to cook their catch in the evenings, you know that his father has done just the same before him, and that this simple tradition of handing down skills has happened just this way for generations. It is a world a million miles apart from the one most of us inhabit, and which Natan is destined for in the hectic bustle of Rome. It’s hard not to look upon his life in Mexico positively in contrast to what he can expect from his life with his mother in the very modern world. After the bliss of Banco Chinchorro, when it comes time for Natan to go home, it’s as difficult for us as it is for his father and grandfather.
González-Rubio has managed to capture extraordinarily intimate glimpses in this close relationship between a father and son. It is remarkable to watch tiny, extraordinary intimacies exchanged in front of the camera; minutiae which is normally lost among the lights and the show of a feature film, and even to the keen eye of a documentary camera. At times, you might be forgiven for thinking this level of exposure is too good to be true – and you might just be right. While the film is certainly based in fact - this really is Natan’s last week with his father before he moves back to Rome - to capture the film he wanted, elements of Alamar were staged, and the characters were directed by González-Rubio to produce the effect he desired. It can be seen that Jorge, Roberta and Natan are actors playing themselves in their own life, and to this effect, ‘docu-drama’ might be the most appropriate title for what González-Rubio has created. When he was asked at the Toronto film festival whether Alamar is documentary or fiction, the director refused to answer the question directly. “It is a film,” he replied. This refusal to clarify the intention behind his feature will frustrate many who will struggle to put a label on exactly what it is, but the question is largely inconsequential. The portrayal of close family bonds; the pleasures of a simple, honest life, and of living in harmony with nature are not affected by the degree of González-Rubio’s manipulation, and the film should really not be judged as such.
In Alamar, González-Rubio’s has created a work of simple beauty, which portrays a magical slice of one boy’s life, and the extraordinary relationship he shares with his closest family. In the best way, the film makes us examine ourselves, our own lives, and the relationships we maintain with those around us. LOZ
Mexican filmmaker Pedro Gonzalez-Rubio directs this part film/part documentary set on Banco Chinchorro, the second largest coral reef in the world, which lies just off the Mexican coast.
5-year-old Natan (Natan Machado Palombini) is the son of an Italian mother (Roberta Palombini) and Mexican father (Jorge Machado) who have recently divorced. Before leaving for a new life in Rome with his mother, Natan spends a final summer with his father and grandfather (Nestor Marin) in their simple fisherman's shack at the Banco Chinchorro, learning the ways of their work and forming a bond that, despite its simplicity and strength, is inevitably overshadowed by Natan's impending departure.
Film: Alamar Release date: 28th February 2011 Certificate: U Running time: 73 mins Director: Pedro González‐Rubio Starring: Jorge Machado, Roberta Palombini, Natan Machado Palombini, Néstor Marín Genre: Documentary/Drama/Family Studio: New Wave Format: DVD Country: Mexico
Film: Two In The Wave Release date: 11th February 2011 Certificate: TBC Running time: 91 mins Director: Emmanuel Laurent Starring: Francois Truffaut, Jean-Luc Godard Genre: Documentary Studio: New Wave Format: Cinema Country: France
Two In The Wave documents the relationship between arguably the two most influential artists of the French New Wave movement, François Truffaut and Jean-Luc Godard. The film principally focuses on the ideals celebrated by both, uniting them in friendship, and the point at which this friendship dissolves instigating the end of the Nouvelle Vague era. However, instead of a story of collaboration and teamwork, Emmanuel Laurent presents us with a film about two quite different forces running parallel for a while, until they inevitably go their separate ways. Cannes Film Festival, 1959, sees the success of a film called 400 Blows, the first of François Truffaut’s and France’s New Wave feature films. Despite a complete rejection of the old and respected cinematic ways, 400 Blows is received with enthusiastic salutations; the coming of a new, more real filming style is drawn in to the bosom of the French film world, changing cinema forever.
The documentary’s opening scenes show footage taken at the time of the festival, and from here, with our touring guide, Antoine de Baecque as narrator, we are taken on a general chronological journey of the beginnings of the New Wave period to the end of it.
Through interviews, film clips and newspaper snippets, we track the progression of Truffaut and Godard from boys enamoured with the big screen, sampling films in their hundreds, and starting film clubs and societies along the way. Their rapture in cinema leads them to jobs writing for film magazine Cahiers du Cinema, under Editor-in-Chief and mentor André Bazin, and from there, they formed alliances and gained respect, leading to everlasting careers in filmmaking.
Influenced and utilised by both artists, actor Jean-Pierre Leaud, star of 400 Blows (and Truffaut’s on-screen autobiographical representation), becomes torn between the two; and eventually, “his voyage with two fathers of the New Wave…ends on a sad note.”
The artists finally go their own separate ways after the May 1968 student and worker strikes in France, and depart on hostile terms. Via aggressive correspondence, Godard scolds Truffaut for his “lack of critique,” while he, on the other hand, becomes more and more politically motivated in the making of his films. The two never meet again...
By and large, the artists talk of the same ideals and principles behind New Wave cinema, however, although they may have come to the same conclusion, we are shown how their motivations were quite different, and how that caused a divide between them.
Godard came from a good, wealthy family, and we see him in photographs on the shores of Lake Leman in Switzerland where he grew up. Truffaut, however, had a lonely and unhappy youth, and having been through prison twice, was “saved by cinema” as a form of education. For Godard, it was more a “school of life,” of what could come from it and the reaction it could achieve. By comparing their backgrounds, Laurent affords the viewer to better understand what inevitably drove the two apart by what was rooted in their psyche; for one, cinema was above all a pure aesthetic medium – a way of life - and for the other, it was a platform for socio-political representation.
Laurent supplies us with old interview footage of Truffaut and Godard, of which we receive images of two very different people. Godard, a year older than Truffaut, spoke with a closed mouth, wore dark glasses, and had a grave countenance. Truffaut painted quite a different picture. A friendlier expression hosted a sense of enthusiasm and warmth. We see in selected clips he often fiddles with something in his hands whilst answering a question – a slight nervousness implying innocence. He has an altogether more welcoming character.
Consciously or not, these chosen clips suggest Laurent, certainly, has a more hospitable view of Truffaut, and this is also seen amongst other material included in the documentary. When Truffaut succeeds at Cannes with 400 Blows, Laurent includes a remark from Godard; “Truffaut’s a b**tard. No thought for me!” And it is Truffaut who has the last word of the two in the film. In Two in the Wave, a more sympathetic view of Truffaut is begot, and fans of Godard may find slight contention here.
The documentary itself is evidently made for those familiar with New Wave cinema; if you haven’t seen a film with ‘l’essence de Nouvelle Vague’, this film doesn’t provide a text book study. However, those familiar with the genre might appreciate Laurent’s subtle salutes of homage in the use of French actress Isild Le Besco. As she silently studies erstwhile newspapers and magazines, long, clean close ups of her face occupy the screen; and as she visits former New Wave points of interest, a hand-held camera accompanies her on the streets of Paris.
The chosen footage in the film leaves no gaps for concern. It helps that there are a lot of interviews with the two main men; first hand footage of the subjects allows for a better understanding of who they were, and the viewer doesn’t feel they are being dictated an essay. What may have been beneficial in making the documentary more complete would have been the inclusion of films pre-New Wave, or even some influential Italian Neorealist material, for example. There is also limited information on other New Wave artists and their work - it is obvious Laurent doesn’t want to detract too much from the relationship he sees as key in the dynamics of French New Wave cinema.
The story of Truffaut and Godard is respectfully told in this interesting and informative documentary, however, there is a pro-Truffaut feeling. Laurent allows us an insight in to the motivations that first sparked and then felled a friendship, giving energy to one of the most influential movements in film history. MI
Two In The Wave is the story of a friendship and of a break-up. Jean-Luc Godard was born in 1930; Francois Truffaut two years later. Love of movies brings them together. They write in the same magazines, Cahiers du Cinema and Arts.
When the younger of the two becomes a filmmaker with Les 400 coups (The 400 Blows), which triumphs in Cannes in 1959, he helps his older friend shift to directing, offering him a screenplay which already has a title, A bout de souffle (Breathless). Through the 1960s, the two loyally support each other.
History and politics separate them in 1968, and afterwards - when Godard plunges into radical politics but Truffaut continues his career as before. Between the two of them, the actor Jean-Pierre Léaud is torn like a child caught between two separated and warring parents. Their friendship and their break-up embody the story of French cinema.
Exploring the letters, personal archives and films of the two New Wave directors, Two In The Wave takes us back to a prodigious decade that transformed the world of cinema.
Film: Two In The Wave Release date: 11th February 2011 Certificate: TBC Running time: 91 mins Director: Emmanuel Laurent Starring: Francois Truffaut, Jean-Luc Godard Genre: Documentary Studio: New Wave Format: Cinema Country: France
Film: 35 Shots Of Rum Release date: 19th October 2009 Certificate: 12 Running time: 100 mins Director: Claire Denis Starring: Alex Descas, Mati Diop, Nicole Dogue, Grégoire Colin, Jean-Christophe Folly Genre: Drama Studio: New Wave Format: DVD Country: France/Germany
35 Shots Of Rums is a minimalist study of love, and the sometimes inevitable separation with which love comes hand in hand. Claire Denis gently weaves a tale of intimacy between a group of people living in the same apartment building in the Parisian suburbs. The film was well received by critics after its debut at the Toronto International Film Festival.
35 Shots Of Rum follows a brief but undefined passage in the lives of Lionel (Alex Descas), a widowed train driver, and his grown daughter, Joséphine (Mati Diop), who live in a block of flats in the suburbs of Paris.
We are introduced to Joséphine's love interest, Noé (Gregoire Colin), who lives upstairs, and just as the absence of her mother is an ever-present spectre hanging over proceedings, so too is Noé's inevitable departure, as he dips in and out of the action due to work commitments. Although Noé's devotion to Joséphine is often questionable, Lionel struggles to come to terms with the fact that Joséphine will at some point fly the nest, whether it is with or without Noé. Lionel is also the recipient of what seems to be unrequited love from Gabrielle (Nicole Dogue), a taxi driver who also lives in the same building and clearly has feelings for Lionel.
The film follows the paradox of Joséphine and Noé’s blossoming romance, along with Lionel’s loosening grasp of his relationship with his daughter. As the characters' lives delicately interweave, we are introduced to minor characters that gently push the narrative along, enforcing the theme of separation which Denis skilfully keeps at the forefront of the piece. The climax of the action allows the audience to understand the true meaning of the 35 shots, and ultimately concludes the story in a vein in keeping with the piece's slow pace and minimalist style...
To put it bluntly, this film is slow. However, this is not a weakness, but rather adds weight to the film. Denis is dealing with real life, and unlike Hollywood, real life isn't lived at a frenetic pace with enough dialogue to make a script the size of War And Peace. Dialogue is sparse and no words are wasted, with Denis preferring to tell the story through her actors' demeanour, highlighted by expert camera work. For the majority of the opening ten minutes of the film, we are given subtle music set to the backdrop of trains criss-crossing their way through Paris, as well as a patient browse around the protagonists' home. This allows us to settle into the tempo of the film, and ease into the steady lives that Lionel and Joséphine lead.
Descas and Diop both play their parts in exemplary fashion. The intimacy between the two is beautifully crafted, so much so that it is at first perfectly feasible that the two are lovers. Descas finds the perfect balance between being a loving father who wants his daughter to be independent, and a man struggling with the realisation that he is about to lose his closest companion. Much of this should be credited to Denis whom, as writer, only gives Lionel a solitary line in the whole film with which to express his feelings towards his daughter's imminent departure - therefore forcing Descas to portray the emotion through body language alone. The same can be said for the rest of the cast, who play each part, no matter how small, with the level of skill required from such a thin script.
Denis shies away from informing the audience to such an extent that it affects the film in an adverse way. We never fully understand the relationship between Lionel and Gabrielle, yet both are main characters within the plot. We take a brief trip with Lionel and Josephine to visit the grave of their late loved one, where we meet a lady who is potentially a friend, or sister of Joséphine's mother. A tragedy which is important to one the central characters in the film is dealt with in a brief manner, and with no explanation whatsoever.
Along with unexplained instances within the plot, there is also a tendency for scenes to succeed each other in a rather awkward and clumsy fashion. Again, as a result of this, we are left wondering why we are now being shown a different setting, and being thrown straight into the midst of the action. This happens regularly within the film, and although this does not pose as much of a problem as the aforementioned holes in the plot, it adds a mild sense of confusion to proceedings and could have easily been avoided by adding small segments into the beginning of some scenes
35 Shots Of Rum stands out as one of the best contemporary films to deal with the minutiae of suburban life. Its main themes are dealt with by the deftest and most gentle touches, even if the overall lack of slickness to the film somewhat overshadows its many virtues. This film should definitely be seen, though, even if it is just to appreciate Alex Descas and Mati Diop giving a master class in the art of depicting subtle intimacy. CPA
New Wave Films have revealed their 2011 release schedule to subtitledonline.com.
Alamar (a film by Pedro Gonzalez-R)
DVD Release: 28th February
A father of Mayan origins and his son Natan spend their last days together before Natan returns to live with his Italian mother in Rome. Spending their days at sea, their relationship grows as they connect with life above and below the surface of the sea.
Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives (a film by Apichatpong Weerasethakul)
DVD Release: 28th March
Uncle Boonmee has chosen to spend his final days surrounded by his loved ones in the remote forest, an important place from his childhood and, he believes, the possible location of his former existences. Surprisingly, the ghost of his deceased wife appears to care for him, and the spirit of his long lost son returns. Contemplating the reasons for his illness, Boonmee treks through the jungle with his family to a mysterious hilltop cave - the birthplace of his first life...
Two In The Wave (a film by Emmanuel Laurent)
Cinema Release: 11th February
DVD Release: 11th April
Jean-Luc Godard was born in 1930; Francois Truffaut two years later. Love of movies brings them together. They write in the same magazines, Cahiers du Cinema and Arts. When the younger of the two becomes a filmmaker with Les 400 coups (The 400 Blows), which triumphs in Cannes in 1959, he helps his older friend shift to directing, offering him a screenplay which already has a title, A bout de souffle (Breathless). Through the 1960s the two loyally support each other. History and politics separate them in 1968 and afterwards - when Godard plunges into radical politics but Truffaut continues his career as before. Between the two of them, the actor Jean-Pierre Léaud is torn like a child caught between two separated and warring parents. Their friendship and their break-up embody the story of French cinema.
How I Ended This Summer (a film by Alexei Popogrebsky)
Cinema Release: April (TBC)
A polar station on a desolate island in the Arctic Ocean - Sergei, a seasoned meteorologist, and Pavel, a recent college graduate, are spending months in complete isolation on the once strategic research base. Pavel receives an important radio message and is still trying to find the right moment to tell Sergei, but his innate fear of the older man prevents him passing on the message. From this deception, lies and suspicions start poisoning the atmosphere that leads to a suspense-filled climax . The actors Sergei Puskepalis and Grigory Dobrygin were jointly awarded the Best Actor Prize in this year’s Berlin Film Festival for their performances as two men forced to carve out a relationship of trust and, ultimately, forgiveness in the desolate Russian Arctic.
Le Quattro Volte (a film by Michelangelo Frammartino)
Cinema Release: April/May (TBC)
An old shepherd lives his last days in a quiet medieval village perched high on the hills of Calabria, at the southernmost tip of Italy. He herds goats under skies that most villagers have deserted long ago. He is sick, but believes that he can find his medicine in the dust he collects on the church floor, which he drinks in his water every day. A new goat kid is born. We follow its first few tentative steps, its first games, until it gains strength and goes to pasture. Nearby, a majestic tree stirs in the mountain breeze and slowly changes through the seasons, until transformed into fuel through the ancestral work of the local Calabrian charcoal makers.
Film Socialisme (a film by Jean-Luc Godard)
Cinema Release: May (TBC)
A Mediterranean cruise. Numerous conversations, in numerous languages, between the passengers, almost all of whom are on holiday... At night, a sister and her younger brother have summoned their parents to appear before the court of their childhood. The children demand serious explanations of the themes of Liberty, Equality and Fraternity… Visits to six sites of true or false myths: Egypt, Palestine, Odessa, Hellas, Naples and Barcelona.
Around A Small Mountain (a film by Jacques Rivette)
Cinema Release: June (TBC)
Puzzle (a film by Natalia Smirnoff)
Cinema Release: July (TBC)
It’s Maria’s fiftieth birthday and she receives a jigsaw puzzle as a present. The discovery that she’s good at them sparks a new passion. Responding to an ad, she starts training with a rich bachelor for the national and potentially international jigsaw puzzle tournament. A devoted but slightly alienated housewife, she hides her new activity from her family, until she has to tell them she is participating in the national tournament.
Hadewijch (a film by Bruno Dumont)
Cinema Release: September (TBC)
Named after a 13th century mystic, Hadewijch presents the spiritual journey of Céline (Julie Sokolowski), a young novice nun who is expelled because of her overzealous faith, and sent back into the world by the mother superior. As she returns to live with her parents in their sumptuous Parisian apartment, Hadewijch once again becomes Céline, the daughter of a French minister. Here she meets Yassine, an Arab boy who introduces her to the lights of Paris, and the cités (the Arab and African immigrant housing projects). Céline’s passionate love of God, her rage, her unease with her haute-bourgeois parents, and her encounter with the volatile Yassine and, more importantly, his brother Nassir, a devout Muslim, leads her between grace and madness, further off along dangerous paths.
Aurora (a film by Cristi Puiu)
Cinema Release: September (TBC)
Aurora is the story of the fall of an ordinary man – an imperfect fall without glory. The film follows Viorel for two days as he wanders Bucharest. A recently divorced father of two young daughters, Viorel is an engineer. At work, he has an altercation with one of his co-workers who owe him money and drops in on another employee who hands over two hand-made firing pins, prepared in secret, for a hunting rifle. Viorel wanders around Bucharest. Wherever he is, he feels the same strange nervousness, the same muffled anxiety and the same urge to end the instability that rules his life. He buys a rifle and ammunition, then goes back home to test his weapon...
Mysteries Of Lisbon (a film by Raúl Ruiz)
Cinema Release: October (TBC)
Mysteries of Lisbon plunges us into a veritable whirlwind of adventures and escapades, coincidences and revelations, sentiments and violent passions, vengeance, love affairs, all wrapped in a rhapsodic voyage that takes us from Portugal to France, Italy, and as far as Brazil. In this Lisbon of intrigue and hidden identities, we encounter a series of characters all somewhat linked to the destiny of Pedro da Silva, orphan in a boarding school. Father Dinis, a descendent of the aristocratic libertines, later becomes a hero who defends justice, a countess maddened by her jealousy and set on her vengeance, a prosperous businessman who had mysteriously made his fortune as a bloodthirsty pirate; these and many more all cross in a story set in the 19th century and all searching for the true identity of our main character.
Keep checking back in the New Year for more information on all these films, and confirmed release dates.
